


Shelter From The Rain

by Katzedecimal



Series: Disconnected [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: In a bookstore in Soho, an angel is Falling.   In a Bentley on the streets of London, a demon is raging.  There will be a reckoning.   They will get what they deserve.   Neither of them expected what they got.Inspired by Michael Sheen's head canon that the failed conversation with Metatron was the start of Aziraphale's Fall.





	1. In Which Aziraphale Is Feeling Reckless

The bookstore was closed but Crowley barged in anyways. “Aziraphale?” His unerring sense of where to find Aziraphale told him the angel was in the back room again. 

He found Aziraphale kneeling on the floor, apparently meditating. Which was unusual for Aziraphale. And his expression wasn’t… usual, either. “Angel?” Crowley said very softly, “Are you alright?”

The silence stretched out into minutes. Crowley wondered whether Aziraphale had heard him, since Aziraphale could lose entire days when he was engrossed in a good book. Finally Aziraphale whispered, “I don’t think you can call me that anymore, Crowley.”

“What?!”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and let his wings manifest, spreading them out as he lowered his head. Crowley stared at them in shock. Normally they were white as snow but something had changed. Now they had colour. They had acquired a tint of warm beige that made the patterns on the feathers just barely visible. Hints of iridescent blue and green scintillated among the feathers and the pinions were tipped with flecks of iridescent vermilion, just enough to make the wings look like they were glowing. Immediately Crowley realized what had happened. “Oh, Angel,” Crowley gazed at him with open sympathy, “What was the final straw?”

Aziraphale looked away again. “I tried to stop a war that didn’t have to happen… and they didn’t want it stopped. Not even the Metatron.” He looked up, hurt confusion naked on his face, “I just… _can’t_ respect that. I _can't_ support that. I can’t.”

Crowley opened his arms and stepped forward to gather Aziraphale close. “I know,” he whispered, pulling Aziraphale to his feet. He pulled Aziraphale’s head against his chest and nuzzled his hair.

Aziraphale began to sob, holding Crowley tightly. Crowley stroked his hair and back and swayed, rocking him as best he could. He took off his dark glasses and set them aside, concentrated for a moment, then wrapped them both in the shelter of his own wings.

Aziraphale wept harder. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. 

“I know,” Crowley whispered, stroking his hair, “I didn’t mean to Fall either.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t make any sense at all.” He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on Aziraphale’s soft hair. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“I’m so, so sorry.” Aziraphale looked up, his eyes streaming and full of pain, “You had to go through this alone! You didn’t have **anybody.** ” He shook his head, “And I just don’t see what’s so wrong about asking questions!”

Crowley stood rooted in shock. _That’s_ what had Aziraphale crying so hard? Not his own Fall but Crowley’s? That Crowley had had no one to support him? _Oh my G… S… stars! That’s… that’s just Aziraphale all over, isn’t it. Compassion, that’s what he should’ve been angel of. He’s got too much empathy, that’s what it is._ He sighed and shook his head fondly. “I cried for a long time,” he admitted, “A lot of tears. But then someone sheltered me from the rain.”

Aziraphale looked up for a moment and Crowley smiled, gently. He laid his head back against Crowley’s chest and sniffled. “I’ve ruined your shirt.”

“It’s fine,” Crowley murmured, “What happened?”

“I was singing,” Aziraphale admitted finally, “A Leonard Cohen song, it… expressed some deep feelings I’ve been having.”

“Which one?”

“[ _You Want It Darker._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0nmHymgM7Y)”

Crowley’s eyes widened, “Oooh. Yeah. They wouldn’t like that.”

“I guess I thought I could get away with it that way. Next thing I know, I’m called before the burning bush.”

“Oh, not the old burning bush trick,” Crowley groaned.

Aziraphale shuddered, “I was told there’d be a reckoning. I was told I’d get what I deserved.”

Crowley snorted, “They’ll have to go through me first. They already know infernal fire won’t work.” He chuckled fondly and grinned, “I still can’t believe you actually asked for a rubber duck.”

“What? You asked for marshmallows, surely?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and groaned, “Should have asked for marshmallows.”

Aziraphale stared at him, “You didn’t ask for marshmallows?! I would have asked for marshmallows!”

“And that’s how I know the duck was actually you!”

“And… and weenies! You could have had a weenie roast!”

That did it for Crowley. He put his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and laughed until the tears came. “Roasting weenies and marshmallows over the infernal fire…! Just imagine their faces!” he gasped, “Oh, Angel…! You’re mad brilliant!”

He really hadn’t intended to kiss him. Certainly not for that long. He kept expecting Aziraphale to step back in shock, maybe push him away. Not kiss back. 

Eternity might have passed, hidden under Crowley’s wings. 

“Been wanting to do that for ages,” Aziraphale whispered finally.

Crowley gaped at him. “You… _what?_ ”

“Oh not this again.”

“No, hang on, you…”

“I’m not **that** oblivious.”

“You kept pushing me away!”

“To keep us both from getting killed!” Aziraphale drew a deep breath and blew it out, “Look, remember in 1800, when I first opened my shop? Gabriel and Sandalphon came to visit?”

“Yeah, I remember, I brought chocolates and they threatened to replace you with that wanker, Michael.”

“Right and they gave me a medal and told me they were taking me back Upstairs and I told them-”

“-That ‘only you could thwart the wiles of the demon Crowley’, right, and then Sandalford said it sounded like you liked me.”

“Sandalphon. And yes, my dear, that’s precisely the point. I couldn’t fool them.”

“What?! Don’t be ridiculous, I completely snowed them with a couple of tailoring dummies - oh it was a **lot** of fun, if you could have been a fly on the wall, I had way too much fun doing the voices… But, seriously, those two were so ignorant of everything that fooling them wasn’t even a challenge!”

“ **Exactly** , Crowley. _And I couldn’t fool them._ ”

“…Alright, apparently there’s something I’m still not getting.”

Aziraphale sighed, “I told you before, we’re attuned to love, angels. And I couldn’t fool them when I just **liked** you! There’s no **way** I could…” He broke off. Crowley was staring at him, finally comprehending, and his expression difficult to decipher. “I couldn’t put you at risk like that. We both know what your kind would do to you if they found out what you were capable of.”

“Really? And what exactly am I capable of?”

The tight, nearly-monotone voice was a warning and Aziraphale hesitated, then decided to press his luck. “How many times have you been there for me, Crowley? You’ve always known where to find me, it stopped being coincidence a long time ago. You didn’t have to rescue my books from the bomb. You rescued me because you’re my friend but that? - that was **kind**. That was-”

“Stop it,” Crowley grated.

“ **Nice**. You’ve always been nice to me, Crowley.”

Crowley’s eyes were full-on snake now. “I am a demon!” he hissed.

Aziraphale’s patience snapped. He rolled his eyes, “Yes, keep telling yourself that.”

“What’s **that** supposed to mean?” Now the fork had appeared in his tongue. 

Aziraphale reached out and flicked a glossy black wing, “What’re these then, eh? Eh? You know what I saw when I was in Hell? Not a single wing.”

“I hide my wings.”

“But you can’t hide their aura. Not from me, I can sense them, all the time. And you know what I didn’t sense in Hell? - Wings.”

“Isss there a point to thisss?”

“Oh, it’s your turn to play the obtuse one, is it?” Aziraphale snapped, feeling reckless, “Your flat is only slightly less sparse than Heaven itself! - surely you noticed the resemblance? And you treat your plants the way you were treated in Heaven, isn’t that right? And the Arrangement? Got you an excuse to do a bit of blessing again, didn’t it? And you’re always talking about the stars.” He sat back and sighed, “We’ve been friends for six thousand years and you’re a good friend, the best friend. How many demons have friends? I’ve been telling you, I’m attuned to love, you’ve seen how I can sense it. I never mentioned it to keep us both safe.” He stroked the glossy wing again, “You are as you have always been, my dear Crowley - a fallen Angel. Capable of being kind. Capable of being Nice. Capable of love.”

Crowley roared and abruptly Aziraphale was alone.

“You were right, Crowley,” he whispered, “We’re on our own side now. We can both put our shields down.”


	2. In which Crowley has Something To Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has an uninvited guest and he is **not** in the mood for company.

_Who the **Heaven** does he think he is, talking to me like that?!_

The Bentley roared through the streets, weaving recklessly through the traffic, navigating more or less by instinct since Crowley was much too furious to pay much attention to the road. 

_The nerve! Of all the… the… the **cheek** of it!_

The _Queen’s Greatest Hits_ started playing _You’re My Best Friend_ and he stabbed the stereo off. **Not** what he wanted to listen to right now. The only sounds were the screech of tyres and Crowley’s emotional breathing.

Why was he so upset? He’d known for ages that he loved the angel. He’d known for thousands of years that he cared. He’d been outraged back that time in Mesopotamia when the Almighty had apparently decided that drowning everyone and everything in a massive flood was good anger management. Aziraphale had heard it all and got that look he often got. And Aziraphale had listened while he pitched a drunken fit about whales and dolphins and gorillas and everything else that would be needlessly wiped out in a pointless Armageddon, who hadn’t even done anything to deserve it. If he expected Aziraphale **not** to notice that Crowley cared, then… well he was just an idiot, in that case.

A finger-snapping beat emerged from the speakers, leading into a jazz beat. _Not in the mood for jazz,_ Crowley thought and stabbed the channel selector button. 

No, he was upset because… well, being a demon was all he had left. And he hadn’t done that right, either. He’d bluffed his way through thousands of years and managed to fool pretty much everybody, including Aziraphale. Only, apparently not Aziraphale. 

The music hadn’t changed. He frowned, stabbed another button, swerved around a lorry, and stabbed a third button.

Or maybe he was just mad because he’d thought Aziraphale was oblivious and it turned out he’d been acting. 

_No time to get down, ‘cause I’m moving up_   
_No time to get down, ‘cause I’m moving up_   
_No time to get down, ‘cause I’m moving up_   
_Ahh… Check out the crabs in the bucket…_

_Never heard this before,_ Crowley thought. The selector still wasn’t responding so he was forced to listen to the whole thing. He was nearly at his flat when he noticed

The stereo was off.

He parked the car and stared at the stereo, listening to the last strains of the music coming from speakers with no power going to them. He wondered if the car had developed an electrical problem. He slammed the door shut and went up to his flat, ripped off his dark glasses and flopped into his chair. 

His eyes took in the impeccably clean, modern minimalist flat. He bit his lip. _Yeah, alright, seeing it now. Bit dimmer, of course, but…_ He picked up a glass and flung it against the wall. _Bless Aziraphale anyhow! What did I ever do to him?!_ He got up and walked over to examine his plants. They trembled.

_”And you treat your plants the way you were treated in Heaven.”_

_Fuck off, Aziraphale!_ He wiped his eyes, then stroked a hand lightly over the leaves. 

CROWLEY

He felt that, more than heard it. Very slowly he looked over towards the bonsai shrub which was looking rather… bushy… _Oh no_

It burst into flames. 

Crowley stared at it for a full ten seconds before stomping off to the kitchen and returning with the fire extinguisher. He sprayed the unit until the whole plant was choked with fire retardant. Then he stood back with a huff and a sharp nod of satisfaction, “See how You like that!”

The plant smouldered and ignited again. Crowley sighed. “You have a lot of nerve coming here! Now? Really? Six **thousand** years without so much as a phone call and **now** You decide to just drop in uninvited?”

WE WERE MOST SURPRISED TO RECEIVE THY PRAYER

“Yeah… well… I was a little surprised to be praying it, but end of the world and all that… And speaking of which-!!”

THERE SHALL BE A RECKONING. THOU SHALT RECEIVE WHAT THOU DESERVEST.

“Well I _reckon_ I already have,” Crowley said bitterly, “Thrown into a lake of sulphur, condemned to the shape of a snake, and for what?? All I did was ask questions! And what did Aziraphale do? He tried to **stop** the war, a war that didn’t have to happen! Why is **that** wrong? Why is **that** worth **forcing** somebody to **walk** into infernal flame?! He is one of Your best! No, fuck that, he **is** Your best! He is so compassionate and kind and he’s still made of love when the rest of them have turned into cold robots. And while I’ve got You on the phone, I am **really** unimpressed with how Your whole upper management team has been treating him!”

There was a long pause. THAT IS WHO SHALL BE RECKONED.

Crowley paused to work that out. “Right. Well… You could have been clearer.”

CROWLEY THE QUESTIONING, A NEW TASK AWAITS YOU-

“What?!” Crowley shrieked, “What?! After… After all You’ve… I helped hang the stars for You and You… threw me into **boiling sulphur** for asking too many questions, and what Your lot did to Aziraphale and You… You… **Everything!** And **now** You have another job for me??”

There was another long pause. WE SWEAR, IF THE SÂTAN WAS OUR PROSECUTING ATTOURNEY, THOU SHOULDST HAVE BEEN OSHA INSPECTOR  
 **YOU**  
 **ARE**  
 **BEING**  
 **REWARDED**  
IS THAT CLEAR ENOUGH FOR THEE?

”Yeah, okay, that’s a good start,” Crowley squeaked from the floor.

GO HOME, CROWLEY. FIND THERE THE ANSWERS THAT YOU SEEK. WELL… SOME OF THEM, ANYWAYS.

“Hey, um… Thank you for Aziraphale. He truly is the best,” Crowley whispered sincerely. The divine fire flared for an instant, then went out.

The bonsai shrub was unharmed, although covered in fire retardant. Crowley snapped his fingers and the mess vanished. He dithered a bit then patted the shrub, “Good job.”

He went back to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Then he paused and looked around at his flat. “’Go home’, what’s that supposed to mean? This is my flat! I **am** home!” He looked around again. At the shiny, impeccably clean surfaces, the open concept, all the furniture sleek and boxy, save for his chair. It was his flat. It was where he lived, when he wasn’t

When he wasn’t

When he wasn’t at _home._

He sighed. Because _home_ was in Soho. _Home_ was neither crowded like Hell nor empty like Heaven, but comfortably cluttered and stacked with books. _Home_ was where he could get roaring drunk or have a cup of tea and listen while an eccentric and very dear friend, dearer than dear, read to him, heard him with a patience the Almighty had never shown him, made him laugh. _Home_ was where he felt safe, accepted… forgiven.

He put his hands on the kitchen worktop and hung his head. Then he picked up his car keys and went out.


	3. In Which They Don't So Much Fall As Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You said She offered you a job. What was the job?”
> 
> Crowley was silent for several seconds. “I, uh… I didn’t ask.”
> 
> “Crowleyyyyy! Of all the times _not_ to ask questions…!”
> 
> “Well?? Six thousand years without a peep, and when I’ve **finally** got Her attention, I might have… gone off a bit.”
> 
> Crowley goes home. Aziraphale makes him an offer he can't refuse.

The bookstore was closed but Crowley slunk in anyways. “Aziraphale?” His unerring sense of where to find Aziraphale told him the angel was still in the back room. 

He found Aziraphale in his chair, with three empty wine bottles and a half-empty glass. “Angel?” Crowley said very softly, “Are you alright?” Aziraphale looked up and the bottles immediately began refilling. “Oy, steady on, you’ll give yourself a headache if you go too fast.”

“Crowley!!” Aziraphale stood up with a glowing smile that said he hadn’t expected him to come back so soon.

“Yeah, hi, um,” Crowley held up an insulated bag, “I brought supper.”

Aziraphale’s smile softened into an endeared expression, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Crowley shrugged, “I found those chilis that you like.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up, “Poblanos? Oh, those are hard to find in London! And nobody ever has them on the menu. Hang on, I’ve got plates around here somewhere.” He found the plates and also a light red zinfandel. “What’s that on your sleeve?”

Crowley glanced at his sleeve as they sat down to eat. “Fire retardant powder. The bonsai bush caught fire.” Aziraphale paused and stared at him. “…After messing with my car stereo.”

Aziraphale put down his fork and stared at him. “Are you saying… You turned a fire extinguisher _on the Almighty_?!” he gasped, equally aghast and amazed.

“Well?? What was I supposed to do?” Crowley was suddenly up and ranting again, “Six thousand years without a peep, ten million light year freefall into a lake of boiling sulphur, shunned for all eternity, plus the complete no-responsibility during the Armageddon and **now** She shows up **in** my flat, incinerates **my** bonsai shrub, I worked hard on that shrub, and offers me a job and I’m supposed to do what, roll out the red carpet??”

“Possibly not but I’m pretty sure that didn’t help your case,” Aziraphale pointed out mildly. Crowley flopped back into his chair and raked his hand through his hair. “What was the job?”

Crowley looked up suddenly, “Huh?”

“You said She offered you a job. What was the job?”

Crowley was silent for several seconds. “I, uh… I didn’t ask.”

“Crowleyyyyy! Of all the times _not_ to ask questions…!”

“Well?? Six thousand years without a peep, and when I’ve **finally** got Her attention, I might have… gone off a bit.”

“’Gone off’?”

“About… you. And… everything, the Apocalypse, how the archangels treated you, they’re up for reckoning by the way…”

“How do you know that?”

Crowley was up and stomping about again, gesturing wildly, “Because She **said** so, it’s **them** who’re up for reckoning, not us, oh…! _Oh!!_ That was a **plural** you, I thought She was getting the tenses mixed up but it was **plural** …”

“Crowley, my dear, are you listening to yourself?”

“She said, She said ‘There shalt be a reckoning’, that meant the archangels, and She said ‘Thou shalt get what thou deservest.’”

“Yes, that’s what She told me,” Aziraphale sighed, “You mentioned a lake of molten sulphur. Can’t say I’m looking forward to that.”

“No no no!” Crowley rushed over to kneel beside Aziraphale and seize his biceps, “Because _then_ She said, She said ‘You are being rewarded, is that clear enough for thee?’ _That was a plural ‘you’_ , Angel!”

Aziraphale stared at him. “Rewarded with what?”

“I don’t know.” Crowley picked himself up and went back to his chair to pick at his food some more, “I can’t believe I didn’t ask.”

“I’m impressed you managed to get a clear answer out of the Almighty.”

Crowley calmed down enough to think about that for a bit. “She called me ‘Crowley the Questioning.’ Like I was annoying Her or something.”

“I don’t think you’re annoying,” Aziraphale said, “You ask good questions. I’ve always admired that. You make me think.” Crowley blew his lips out. “And these are the best stuffed chilis I’ve had outside of Mexico. Where did you get these, we’re going there some day.” 

Crowley didn’t answer. “Lots of them had their wings wrenched off or chopped off,” he said quietly after a while, “Some had theirs changed into bat wings.”

Aziraphale put his fork down again. He stared, aghast and chagrined. “I do apologise. I crossed a line.”

Crowley shook his head, “Doesn’t make you wrong. I got lucky, I guess.” He looked at Aziraphale, “You weren’t wrong.” He rolled his head back to look at the ceiling, “Think you might be wrong about the love thing, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that lot? I was up there, right? I don’t think any one of them had any understanding of love. If any of them could actually sense it, I’d be very surprised. Gabriel, that smug sod? - not bloody likely.” He shook his head, “Or maybe you’re the only one left. But whatever it is, I think it’s just you.”

Aziraphale thought back to the ranks of angelic soldiers, the quartermaster, the archangels, Michael holding their pitcher of holy water and smirking. He sighed, “I can’t really say I disagree with you.”

Crowley raked his hair again and said softly, “I told Her you were the best angel She’s got.”

Aziraphale looked discomfited. Then he looked down and admitted, “I might have said something similar about you.”

“You what?”

“Well?? You were abused and cast down just for asking questions and it’s just not _right!_ You have been kind and you care so much about everything that lives and you’re much more mischievous than evil and you’ve been the definition of a best friend and the fact that you’re ‘unforgivable’ in the face of all that is just… It’s just… It’s _shameful,_ is what it is. It’s childish and it’s shameful.”

Crowley took his glasses off and gaped at him, “Are you telling me you dressed down the Almighty over **me**?”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably, “And other things.” Crowley sat back and stared at him, mouth slowly spreading into a grin. “These are very good chilis. Where did you get them?”

Crowley took another sip of wine. “I kind of got the impression like I was talking to **the** most disconnected CEO of all time. You know, like the ones who give the instructions for the underlings to carry out but never really check to see how they’re being followed.”

Aziraphale got that look again, the look that he got whenever he privately agreed with something Crowley had said. “Angels were created to serve,” he said. After a few moments he added, “I got that sense too.” He sipped the wine, “And I notice you’re dodging my question of where you found these exquisite stuffed poblano chilis.”

“Oh, uh, the grocery down near my place, they had a sign out.”

Aziraphale put the wine glass down. “Did you make these?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You cook?” Crowley shrugged. “Six thousand years and I never knew you can cook.”

“What do you think I did when I wasn’t hanging out with an angel? I wasn’t hiring a staff.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale sipped again and looked thoughtful.

“Hey, Angel?” Crowley said softly, “What made you change your mind? About… all this? You were worried about your side but now…”

Aziraphale thought about how to explain. “Well, you’re right, we don’t really have sides anymore.” He looked into his glass, “Mostly, I realized you were sincere.”

“’Sincere,’ what do you mean ‘sincere?’”

He couldn’t look at Crowley. “That it wasn’t just… a ruse. A ploy to tempt me. It’d be quite a feather in your side’s cap, after all.”

Crowley was silent. When Aziraphale finally looked at him, he saw that Crowley was staring at him with an expression of such heartbreak, his eyes fully snake-gold. “I thought you were dead!” he said, his voice cracking, “Your bookstore was burning and I couldn’t _find_ you! I thought those sanctimonious bastards had killed you!” 

“Yes, clearly it was an unjustified caution on my part,” Aziraphale said. He sighed and took Crowley’s hand, “About that… It wasn’t a good time to address it, what with the Apocalypse and all… I suppose now is good enough.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘unjustified,’” Crowley admitted, “If it’d been anyone but me, it would have been very justified. But, Angel, all this time you thought…”

“I feared,” Aziraphale corrected, “I worried. It was at the back of my mind, yes. Just as, surely, there were times you questioned my motives in giving you all those opportunities to do little kindnesses.”

Crowley looked away. “Alright, point taken,” he sighed. 

“You weren’t wrong, technically - I **was** forcibly discorporated and not at all happy about it. I may have said a bad word.”

Crowley grinned despite himself, “What, _you_?”

“Well what would you have done?”

“Forcibly discorporated at the worst possible time in the universe, probably screamed ‘FUCK’ at the tops of my lungs.”

“Ah, so that **was** the appropriate response. Good to know.” He smiled as Crowley laughed, then looked away, ”And I might possibly have referred to you as my boyfriend.”

Crowley stopped laughing, “You… _what_?”

“We were at the air base gate and then **you** show up with your car on fire, why was your car on f- no, no, that’s for later. You show up in a flaming car, and my dear, if you were trying to impress me, let me tell you, **it worked.** You could not have had better timing. Tracey was very impressed and IIIII… might have had a bit visceral of a reaction, a sort of… ‘the-demon-in-the-burning-car-is-mine-don’t-even-think-about-it’ kind of reaction and sheeeee asked if you were my boyfriend and IIIII… sort of said… well, in a _nutshell_ , I said… yes. Alright, what I actually said was ‘we’re a bit more than that’ but… nutshell version, ‘yes.’”

Crowley was staring at him slack-jawed. It reminded him of that time in the 1960s when he’d given Crowley a Thermos of holy water. “You… You think of me as your…”

“Too much?” Aziraphale said meekly.

“ ** _No!_** ” Crowley rushed to seize Aziraphale’s upper arms, then clasped his hands, “Not too much, Angel. Not too much at all.” He touched his forehead to Aziraphale’s and his smile was dazzlingly happy. 

“I was giving some thought to your offer,” Aziraphale continued.

“Which offer oh that offer.”

“Right, that offer. And… I don’t think it would work.”

Crowley’s head jerked up, “What? Why not?”

“Well… Your flat is quite a distance from Soho. And you’re quite neat while I’ve always been something of a clutterbug.” Crowley looked crestfallen. “But I was thinking, there’s the flat upstairs, I hardly ever use it. Mostly for books storage. And I’m sure there’s room in the garage for your car.”

Crowley frowned, “This building doesn’t have a garage.”

Aziraphale met his eyes, “I think you’ll find it does.”

Crowley looked away but his grin was back. “Alright, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a look.” He pushed his chair back and let Aziraphale lead him up the stairs. 

Aziraphale lived mostly in the back room of the book store. He seldom slept and preferred to dine out, so the flat was indeed mostly empty. Since being restored by Adam, Aziraphale hadn’t even furnished it yet. It took about five minutes for Crowley to miracle it over into something he found acceptable and move his houseplants in. He kept his bed, as it had taken him a long time to make it perfectly comfortable, but he dressed it with a new tartan quilt. Then he glanced at Aziraphale. “Too fast?”

“What did you do with the books?”

“Oh, you know, closets… Borrowed some space from a purse dimension.”

“So it’s… bigger on the inside?”

“Bigger on the inside, yeah.” Crowley glanced over. Aziraphale was smiling that glowing smile of his when he was particularly happy. Crowley couldn’t help but smile back. Then he said the three words he knew would delight his angel the most, “Read to me?”

It shouldn’t have been possible for Aziraphale to smile even brighter but he did. “I know just the book! It’s one of young Adam’s additions. I haven’t read it yet because, well you’ll see, but I thought of you immediately when I spotted it. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” He turned and descended the stairs again and strode purposefully through the stacks to find the book. He brought it back to the back room, where Crowley had changed and was now coiled up on the couch. “Ohhh, my dear, did you moult? You look lovely! All iridescent and glowy!”

“Huh?” Crowley peered past Aziraphale to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, “Huh. That’s new. Can’t recall ever looking like an oilslick bead before.” He glanced at Aziraphale, “Your wings looked pretty glowy, too, come to think of it.”

“You did say we were rewarded,” Aziraphale said as he settled into his chair, “Perhaps these are the signs.” 

“Of what, I wonder,” Crowley mused. Aziraphale held out his arms and let Crowley slither around him, settling the bulk of himself in the angel’s lap and looping his upper body over his neck and shoulders to settle with his head tucked beneath Aziraphale’s ear. “You know you can talk to me, Angel,” he said softly, “You must have been feeling a lot of pain to sing that one.”

Aziraphale was silent for a moment, “I don’t think there are words for what I’ve been feeling, but the song seemed to express it all well enough.”

“Yeah. Leonard was good for that, wasn’t he.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I suppose I didn’t talk to you because… because I knew you’d understand.”

Crowley rippled his coils in the snake equivalent of a hug. “I don’t mind,” he whispered, “If it means you’re not alone.” 

Aziraphale reached up to touch his dearest friend’s face lightly, stroking his fingertips over the ridges above the lidless golden eyes. “None of this has been kind to you,” he said gently, “Why was your car on fire?”

“Drove it through the M25,” Crowley hissed a chuckle, “Burning ring of infernal fire. My fault, that came back to bite me. Worth it to hear Hastur screaming like that. He shouldn’t be Duke of Hell, he should be Duke of Screaming Like A Little Girl.”

“Is that what happened to your car stereo? You said something about messing with it?”

“Oh! No, I’m pretty sure that was the Almighty. I’d turned the stereo off but it was still playing this, some kind of jazz rap song I’ve never heard before. Something about crabs in a bucket. The chorus was all about ‘no time to get down ‘cause I’m moving up.’” Crowley paused to think about that. 

“Ah! _Crabbuckit_ , by k-os.”

Crowley stared at him, “How do you know that? I don’t know that, how do you know that? You listen to classical music all day!”

“I **do** go outside sometimes, you know,” Aziraphale said archly. Then he smiled his brilliant smile and reached up to pat Crowley gently as the snake grumbled fondly. 

“So what’s this book, then?”

“ _Small Gods_ , by Terry Pratchett. It’s a work of fiction but I thought you’d appreciate it.” He read off the blurb on the dust jacket. 

Crowley chuckled, “Yeah, alright, you got me interested. Let’s hear it.” 

As Crowley settled underneath his ear again, Aziraphale put his reading glasses on and opened the book, “’Now consider the tortoise and the eagle…’”


End file.
